


Papa Knows Best

by saudade do coracao (saudade_dc)



Series: And They Lived [2]
Category: The Hundred-Foot Journey (2014)
Genre: Canon Character of Color, F/M, Family, Fluff, Humor, Post-Canon, Romance, cross-cultural relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 16:37:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2157687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saudade_dc/pseuds/saudade%20do%20coracao
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The village of Lumière was not surprised to hear that Jean the mechanic’s son had driven his bicycle straight into a car.  They were surprised, however, when they found out it was because of Mahira Kadam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Papa Knows Best

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Richard C. Morais, Scribner Publishing, Simon & Schuster, Amblin Entertainment, DreamWorks Studios, Harpo Films, Imagenation, Participant Media, or Reliance Entertainment. No profit is made from this story.

The village of Lumière was not surprised to hear that Jean the mechanic’s son had driven his bicycle straight into a car. They were surprised, however, when they found out it was because of a pretty girl. Jean was at home on break from the university, and he had always had his head in the clouds. Not much practical use in the mechanic shop, but brilliant enough to win a scholarship in engineering to École Centrale Paris. He had never had time for love—the town could not even remember him ever showing interest in anyone—so to hear that Mahira Kadam had turned his head was quite the news.

There were two problems: One was that Mahira Kadam did not seem to be interested in Jean Lemaire, and the other was that Jean Lemaire did not know the first thing about getting a woman’s attention. It made for some good gossip at the café in the morning. The poor man ate at the Maison Mumbai for nearly every meal. His patronage pleased Monsieur Kadam, for sure, especially when Jean’s university friends came to visit and all accompanied him to the restaurant. But M. Kadam was not going to approve of a French boy romancing his daughter, and Mahira was not going to outstep her father’s bounds. So the poor lovesick Jean mooned over Mahira, began to smell like curry from nearly living at Maison Mumbai, and crashed into things on his bike even more than usual.

Some found this situation added laughter to their lives, but others took pity on the young man. “Send her flowers and chocolate,” they said. “A woman can’t say no to flowers and chocolate.”

So Mahira received flowers and chocolate every day for three days until M. Kadam took Jean aside and told him that Papa did not approve of Jean and Mahira.

“But what does Mahira think?” Jean asked plaintively.

“Mahira thinks Papa knows best!” said M. Kadam.

The men of Lumière did not despair. “Oh, you must win over the father first,” they said to Jean. “Earn his trust. Help him. Make him come to rely on you, and then he can’t say no.”

So Jean valiantly attempted to do small repairs around Maison Mumbai and change the oil in the Kadam van for free, which M. Kadam allowed because a good deal was a good deal. But the men of the village had forgotten that Jean was not the best man for this kind of job. The van burnt out because of a shortage of oil, and Jean succeeded in bringing down the whole pavilion cover when he tried to nail a board back in place.

“You are not very good at this,” commented Mahira, appearing from inside to help pull him out from under the ruins of the pavilion.

“I’m sorry!” said Jean. “It was an accident!”

“Like the van was an accident?” she asked, using both hands to brush the dirt from his clothes.

“Yes! I’m no good at these things, I know…”

“I think you are trying to put us out of business,” said Mahira. She crossed her arms.

“No!” gasped Jean. “No! I would never! I love Maison Mumbai. It is just what Lumière needs. I would never try to hurt it!”

“Hmm,” said Mahira. “I think you had better stop trying to fix it, then.”

Jean hung his head. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Your arm is bleeding,” she said. “You had better come inside.”

Mahira led him inside and sat him down outside the kitchen. Mansur raised his eyebrows but said nothing. Mukthar and Aisha were not so kind.

“Mahira! Mahira! What happened?”

“There has been an accident,” she said, cleaning Jean’s arm with a wet cloth.

The two peeked outside. “Ooh,” said Aisha. “Papa-ji is not going to be happy!”

“He is going to whip your hide!” said Mukthar to Jean.

“Shush!” scolded Mahira. “Go make yourselves useful and help Mansur.”

“Oh! Oh!” Aisha sing-songed. “Mahira loves Jean, Mahira loves Jean!”

Mahira blushed. “Away with you!” she said, pushing them out the door.

“Thank you for helping me,” said Jean, as she wrapped up his arm. “I’m sorry about the pavilion.”

Mahira stood back and surveyed her handiwork. “Well, of course you will have to stay and tell Papa.” Jean winced. “But in the meantime, I made you makhani dhal.”

He perked up. “Really?”

“Yes, it was to say thank you, but now it will have to give you strength to talk to Papa. Come eat it and then we will clean up the pavilion together.”

She led him into the kitchen and fed him his favorite Indian dish. Then they hauled all the wood and cloth off the chairs in the pavilion. When M. Kadam came home, Mahira dragged her papa aside and talked to him first. Jean talked to him second, and M. Kadam yelled at him for only five minutes instead of the fifteen Jean was expecting. 

“Well, you can’t say you didn’t try,” said the village men to Jean. 

The young man was in very low spirits, and he didn’t go back to Maison Mumbai for a week. When he did go, he was greeted at the gate by M. Kadam. “Ha! Where do you think you have been?” M. Kadam boomed. “Mahira is going to waste away from sighing over you!”

“Wh—What?” stuttered Jean.

“My daughter! Mahira! Surely you have not forgotten her already?”

“N—No,” said Jean. “But you said—”

“You, young man, have stolen my daughter’s heart out from under my very nose!” accused M. Kadam.

“I have?” Jean brightened a little.

“Yes, you thief! And now, if you do not properly court her, you will damage her honor and break her heart!”

“I would never—”

“So you must go inside and reassure my daughter at once!” said M. Kadam. He lowered his voice. “Just do not touch anything.”

So Jean properly courted Mahira, and eventually there was a real traditional Indian wedding that all of Lumière was delighted to attend. Once Jean and Mahira were married, Mahira did the house repairs, cooked, and organized Jean’s papers, and Jean invented a new synthetic material that was very popular with clothing designers. It made them enough money that they could live in comfort, and M. Kadam told everyone how clever he was for setting up his daughter with the smart French boy.

And the village of Lumière thought it a good story after all.


End file.
